


Listen Now

by mrsfizzle



Series: Remus Lupin Mentorfic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Harry Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Protective Remus Lupin, mentorfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsfizzle/pseuds/mrsfizzle
Summary: Harry confides in Remus Lupin about the Dursleys' abuse and moves into Grimmauld Place with him and Sirius. Remus takes steps to adopt him. Family fluff, abuse recovery. SEQUEL to "Speak Now," but could stand alone.
Relationships: Remus Lupin & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Series: Remus Lupin Mentorfic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004457
Comments: 51
Kudos: 198
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a sequel to Speak Now. However, if you choose to read this story without reading the first in the series, you'll need to know the following.
> 
> Speak Now spoilers: Harry tells Remus Lupin about his detention with Umbridge, and Remus encourages him to report her. Sirius doesn't find out until later; he is bitter, at first, about being kept out of the loop, but learns that he needs to be more careful about his own safety if he is to bring security into Harry's life. The relationship between Remus and Harry has become more of a father/son dynamic, while Sirius is like a close older brother or uncle. Because Umbridge is sent to Azkaban and Harry's support system is strengthened in the face of his visions, Sirius's death is averted. At the end of Speak Now, Harry approaches Remus about the Dursleys' abuse.
> 
> To those of you who are reading this sequel having already finished Speak Now: thank you for reading and following! Your comments are always the most motivating, though, so a special thank you to reviewers :)
> 
> I'm also adding this to the Comfortember collection, because although it's late to the party, these early chapters absolutely follow the first few prompts (chapter 1 falls under "Rescue")
> 
> Without further ado . . .

On Lupin's instructions, Harry didn't send a message to Uncle Vernon letting him know when to pick up Harry from the train station. He figured it wouldn't matter much to Uncle Vernon, if he even noticed at all.

Lupin was there to meet him and take him to Grimmauld Place instead. At first, Harry felt like it was all a bit of a waste of time, since he'd just been there, but Lupin insisted that he had to go back to the school and get on the train, or his teachers would worry. Harry ended up being thankful to have the time on the train with his friends.

Once they reached the house, Lupin went right to work preparing tea while Harry sat at a counter in the kitchen. "Sirius will be down in a bit. He's taking care of a couple of cursed objects in one of the spare bedrooms." He placed a steaming cup in front of Harry.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm not your professor anymore, Harry. You can call me Remus. You call Sirius by his first name, don't you?"

"Er, okay." For some reason, it felt different to him, but he supposed refusing would be even more disrespectful.

Lupin sat down across from him. "Harry, do you want to talk about what happened at your aunt and uncle's house?"

Harry swallowed. He really didn't _want_ to talk about it, but he didn't suppose he really had the choice to back out of that conversation, now that he had brought up the subject. He couldn't exactly regret it, since he didn't have to go back there now. But it was still uncomfortable, especially since the lines weren't as clear. Umbridge had drawn blood; Uncle Vernon never had. "I—I might be overreacting. Honestly, Dudley was the worst part."

"Dudley is your cousin?"

"Yeah. He used to beat me up but, er, he mostly stopped after I started learning magic. And Uncle Vernon, he beat me a few times when I got my first accidental magic, but it's been _years_. I—I shouldn't have said anything."

"Harry." Lupin's eyes pierced his. "Tell me what's bothering you."

Harry winced. "At the Wizengamot, with Umbridge, I had marks to show, you know?"

"You were afraid to go back to them this summer. You must have had a reason."

"It's just . . . they hate me."

Lupin frowned. "Harry, I'm sure that's not—"

"My aunt and uncle used to get Dudley dozens of presents for every birthday and Christmas. They've ignored my birthday every year since I was ten. And when I turned ten, they gave me a coat hanger."

Harry wanted to kick himself as soon as the words were out—they sounded so petty and childishly envious—but Lupin's eyes widened. "I see," he said.

"That—that wasn't so bad, actually. It's just that they're afraid of magic. The summer before my second year, though, they tried to keep me from going to Hogwarts. They put bars on my window and fed me cold soup through a cat door, I was lucky Fred and George and Ron broke me out." He supposed he should have been thankful they didn't try to do that while he was still living in the cupboard under the stairs.

"The Weasleys knew about this?"

"I didn't tell them much. It's not really something I talk about."

"Indeed not."

It was quiet for a moment as they both sipped their tea. Harry knew he didn't have to say any more—Lupin would believe him and help him, no matter how much or how little he wanted to talk about.

But the longer they sat, the safer he felt. He'd never told anyone what things had really been like at the Dursleys, and suddenly, the idea of sharing that seemed like it might take a weight off of him.

He started talking about what it had been like to live with the Dursleys—getting kicked out of his room at age three to make way for Dudley to have a second play room, sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs until spiders and darkness didn't scare him anymore. He told Lupin about having to do all of the cooking, cleaning, and gardening, about the days he'd gone without meals, and about being forced to follow Dudley's diet. He talked about Dudley's eleventh birthday, about Aunt Marge and the Night bus, about the dementors that had attacked Dudley—even though Lupin already knew that story—and about Dobby. He even admitted to telling the Dursleys just enough about Sirius to get them to back off a little.

Lupin didn't react to any of Harry's stories with shock or horror, and neither did he brush off anything Harry said as insignificant. He just listened and nodded, concern in his eyes.

As Harry was winding down, less due to running out of stories to tell and more from exhaustion, Sirius entered the kitchen. "Harry?"

"Sirius!" Harry jumped up and embraced his godfather.

"Good to see you, Harry! Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just, um . . ." Harry looked up at Lupin, unsure how much to say.

Lupin nodded. "Go ahead and tell him, Harry. I have an errand I need to run, I'm afraid."

"Okay." Harry smiled, and Lupin gave Sirius a pointed look before disappearing into the Floo.

* * *

Remus arrived in Albus's office a short while later.

Albus stood from his desk. "Remus. This is a surprise."

Remus had no interest in wasting time on pleasantries. "Did you know about how the Dursleys treated Harry?"

The twinkling in Albus's eyes died away suddenly, and Remus found his teeth clenching.

"You knew."

"Remus, the blood wards—"

"No. Don't tell me about blood wards. Those muggles tormented that boy. It's a wonder he's able to function at all."

"Harry is alive. The same magic that allowed him to defeat Quirrell with a touch is what guards the Dursley household. There's no better protection than that."

"It's not _worth it_." Remus himself could provide protection for the boy. It might not be as solid as the blood wards, but the blood wards were no good if Harry was so badly abused that he ran away from home every other summer, or if his mind was being destroyed by the abuse.

Albus's eyes flashed. "You've heard the prophecy by now. That boy is the chosen one. The fate of the wizarding world _will_ rest on his shoulders. There's more at stake than merely his life."

"There certainly is. Merlin knows if there's enough left of his mental health to salvage. The wizarding world is depending on it."

"Harry is more resilient than you think."

"That might be." But Remus was concerned how many might fall as casualties of the battle, if Harry was compromised by his inability to express when he was being truly harmed. "But I have already given him my word that he will not be asked to return to his relatives."

Albus sighed. "You should not have given him false hope."

"It's not false hope. I trust you, Albus, and I respect you, but I will not abide by this. I will keep my promise to Harry."

"Would you fight me?"

Remus swallowed. "Would you make me?"

Their eyes locked. Remus couldn't remember having felt so angry with anyone for a long time. All of those stories Harry had told . . . Albus had known. He had _allowed_ it.

"Harry is with Sirius at Grimmauld Place now," Remus said. "He is going to stay the night, and by tomorrow morning, I am going to make a decision about what steps to take next."

Albus's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, then relaxed. He nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"I am going to win this, Albus," Remus said.

"I will not fight you. But I would implore you to reconsider. At least explain the blood wards to Harry before making any final decisions."

"Oh, I will. I do not plan to keep the boy in the dark, as you seem inclined to do." Remus stepped toward the Floo.

Albus's expression didn't change at that. "Do not forget, Remus. He is only a boy."

Remus turned back toward Albus once more. "Yes, he is. I haven't forgotten how sensitive a boy can be at that age, nor how impressionable, nor how his imagination might run wild given less than adequate information." With that, Remus picked up a handful of Floo powder and left.


	2. Wards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The books are surprisingly and oddly vague when it comes to explaining the blood wards, and I've heard different fans give really different takes, so I'm just going to do the best I can do here. This story is already AU, so I'm not going to obsess over this detail.
> 
> If you're reading this for the Comfortember challenge, this fic is behind, and this chapter falls under the "First day" prompt.

Harry didn't tell Sirius about the Dursleys in nearly as much detail as he'd gone into with Lupin. His relationship with Sirius was different from the one he had with Lupin. In some ways, he felt closer to Sirius, because Sirius was his godfather and had offered to adopt him. But Harry knew Lupin better than he knew Sirius, thanks to a year of DADA class and additional tutoring to teach him the Patronus charm. Of course, it wasn't just about the closeness of each relationship—Harry had never told Ron or Hermione much about the Dursleys, and he was closer to them than to anyone else in his life.

But aside from all of that, Lupin felt more . . . stable. As Harry told bits and pieces of his childhood, the vein that bulged in Sirius's neck made Harry nervous, not for his own safety but for Sirius's. Harry couldn't know if Sirius was going to risk his life to try to take revenge on the Dursleys somehow. It seemed like something he might do. Sirius had contained himself when it came to Umbridge, but only just barely.

They'd been talking for less than a half an hour when Lupin returned through the fireplace. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily as he brushed the ash and leftover Floo powder off his patched robes.

Harry cleared his throat. "Sir—I mean, Remus. Not that it's any of my business, but . . . what errand did you need to run?"

"I've just spoken with Professor Dumbledore."

Harry cringed internally—he didn't want to make any more trouble when Dumbledore had already been so busy this school year. Then again, Dumbledore must have already known about some of what was happening at the Dursleys. That first Hogwarts acceptance letter had been addressed to the cupboard under the stairs. "What did he say?"

"He asked me to tell you the real reason you've been sent to live with the Dursleys."

"Oh!" Harry blinked a couple of times. On the one hand, he was looking forward to this explanation; on the other, he didn't want there to _be_ an explanation. He wanted it all to have been a mistake, something that could be easily remedied by sending Harry somewhere, _anywhere_ else—though preferably, to live with Sirius.

"Have you ever heard of blood wards?"

Harry breathed in to speak, but Sirius cut him off. "Blood wards? _That's_ the reason my godson's been abused all his life?"

Lupin frowned. "Sirius, let me explain it to him."

"There are wards over _this_ place!" Sirius cried. "We can protect him."

"That might be, but he has the right to know why it's been done this way."

Harry slid cautiously to the edge of his seat. "Dumbledore knew about what was happening at the Dursleys?"

"I'm not sure he knew as much as you told me, but I don't want you to think you were completely abandoned, Harry. The reason why you've been forced to live with them so long is that living in the home of your mother's sister affords you some magical protection against Voldemort."

"Because my mom gave her life for me?"

Lupin nodded. "Death Eaters cannot find you while you are at their house, and some measure of that protection remains with you throughout the year as a result of those wards. It's possible that you are alive today because of them."

Harry let out his breath and lowered his head. He knew Lupin's promise had been too good to be true. "Thanks for trying."

Lupin's brow furrowed. "Harry?"

"I've got to go back, don't I?"

" _No_ ," Sirius said. "There are wards over Grimmauld Place. You're _not_ going back to them."

"Sirius," Remus said, and Sirius was quiet.

Harry shifted his weight. Maybe there was still hope. "Are the blood wards . . . better?"

"It depends on who you ask," Lupin said.

Harry shrugged. "I'm asking you."

Lupin took a deep breath. "I think it's possible that the difference in protection could mean your life."

Harry nodded solemnly. "Okay. I—"

"Let me finish, Harry. It _could_ mean your life. I'm not saying it will. There are other factors to consider."

"What factors?"

"Your health, and the fact that Voldemort has made an attempt on your life almost every year you've been at Hogwarts."

"Do you think I've survived all those times because of the blood wards?" He supposed it explained a lot—he'd gotten _awfully_ lucky.

"I don't know. What I do know is that the improvement in your health, particularly your mental health, would be vast if you moved in with a family of wizards who loved you. They could strengthen you. And _that_ could be the different between life and death for you."

Harry wanted to throw up his hands and yell at Lupin to give him a clear answer, but this year had made him start to see that things weren't always that simple. There _wasn't_ always a clear answer.

"You have a great destiny, Harry, and your life is more precious and important than you know," Lupin said. "I'm honored for the trust you've shown me, and for the part I've been allowed to play, but I am not your guardian. Professor Dumbledore made the decision about where you should live when you were a baby. I am not in a position to revoke this decision."

"So . . . you're saying I have to go back?"

"I am not. As much as you might wish otherwise, you are still a child; it is normal that others should make decisions for you. But you came to me out of fear, Harry, and that's a powerful thing. I want to give you a choice where you have not had one before."

Harry swallowed hard. "What choice?"

"You can return to your aunt and uncle and suffer through the remainder of this summer and next. I believe you will be of age by the end of next summer, and the blood wards will no longer be in effect."

"And if I don't?"

"We can report the child abuse. It is likely that muggle law enforcement will intercede on your behalf; it is possible that the Dursleys will be prosecuted. The Ministry of Magic will find a home for you."

Harry turned to Sirius, hoping he could read the question in his eyes.

Sirius smiled sadly. "I would love to take you in, Harry, but I can't be your legal guardian until my name is cleared."

Harry sighed. He understood, but he couldn't bring himself to say that he did. "So it's stay with the Dursleys or fight them in court so I can go live with strangers?" Neither option sounded great.

Lupin winced. "Regardless, you're going to sleep here for the night. Whatever decision you make, we can talk about it in the morning."

"Yes, sir." Harry had really been hoping Lupin would say he could stay at Grimmauld Place for the summer, but he supposed that would have been too much to hope for. Nothing in his life had ever gone that smoothly.

* * *

After Harry had gone to bed, Remus sat awake with Sirius by the fireplace. Sirius gave him a pointed look. "You're _not_ going to allow him to go back to the Dursleys," he said.

"I doubt he will," Remus said. He'd wanted to give Harry the option, but he would have been very surprised if that was the decision the boy made.

"Then . . . are you really going to allow him to be taken in by strangers? _Again?_ "

"They won't be strangers."

"No, you're right. They'll be a family the Ministry chose. Look me in the eyes and tell me that isn't worse."

Remus rubbed his forehead. He didn't like the idea, certainly, but he didn't know what to do. "What do you suggest?"

" _You_ adopt him."

Remus's eyes widened, and he looked up to see Sirius's eyes piercing his. "Me? But you're his godfather."

"And for all we know, my name might never be cleared."

"Siri—"

"You were right, Remus. I'm not ready to be a father, and I won't be ready before Harry comes of age." Sirius half-smiled. "But Harry respects you."

"He respects you, too."

"He loves me. And I love him, too. But respect is different."

Remus knew he was right. Harry was James's son through and through, and Sirius hadn't really grown out of his Marauder phase, either. Harry was a good kid, and remarkably well-adjusted, given his childhood, but he made poor decisions at times, reckless choices he didn't need to make. Sirius wouldn't dissuade him; if anything, he'd be right there with him. Sirius would never stop being a friend to Harry for long enough to be a father to him. Remus didn't believe it was impossible for a father to be a friend to his son, but it was a very different kind of friendship.

It was, admittedly, the kind of friendship Remus had with Harry now.

But such a guardianship wouldn't be practical. For one thing, the ministry would never allow it. For another, Remus was still dangerous. If he failed to take the Wolfsbane potion just once, he could kill Harry, or turn him. Even with Wolfsbane, Remus was unavailable to be Harry's guardian for one day out of every month. The boy needed consistency. Then again, one evening a month wasn't much . . .

"I'll think about it," Remus said. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

But the grin on Sirius's face told Remus that Sirius's hopes were already sky high.


	3. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this for Comfortember, this falls under the prompt "Afraid to sleep."

Harry couldn't get to sleep that night.

His mind kept going back and forth over the options Lupin—no, _Remus_ , Harry had to get used to that—had given him. They weren't great options.

Living with strangers probably wouldn't be worse than living with the Dursleys. It wasn't as if a new set of guardians would love him or consider him part of their family, but they would protect him with their own wards, and they weren't likely to withhold food or let other kids in the house physically abuse him . . . or maybe they would. The Ministry would be the ones deciding where Harry would go to live, and they were the same people who had hired Umbridge.

And, of course, there were the blood wards to consider. With Voldemort constantly turning up, Harry could use every bit of protection he could get. He didn't really understand what Remus had been saying about mental health—it sounded like something Hermione might say, and it would probably make Ron roll his eyes and mutter something about girls and their emotions. So it was probably better to take his chances in a familiar place, even if it was unpleasant.

Then again, just the thought of returning to the Dursleys was making Harry feel nauseous. He was pretty sure they were still convinced Harry had been responsible for the dementors that had attacked Dudley, which meant that even threats about Sirius Black might not convince them to leave him alone.

Harry could feel his chest constricting with the weight of the decision. He wasn't sure how long he'd been tossing and turning—there were no clocks in the room where he was staying.

A light knock on the door almost made Harry jump straight out of bed.

The door opened, and Remus peeked inside. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Er, yeah, I guess. How did you know?"

Remus stepped into the room, carrying a thick blanket. "I could hear you tossing and turning from outside the door. I was just coming by to make sure you were warm enough. This old place can get chilly at night."

"Oh. I'm fine." Harry's cheeks burned at the thought that Remus had overheard his restlessness.

Remus raised an eyebrow, cast a quick lighting spell over the room, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. "You're thinking about the Dursleys."

"It's . . . not an easy decision."

"Didn't I tell you to _sleep_ on it?" Remus chided gently.

Harry shrugged. "I've been trying." He wished there were some way to keep the blood wards without having to live with his aunt and uncle for the _whole_ summer. An idea occurred to him. "How long do I have to live at the Dursleys for the blood wards to remain in effect?"

Remus's eyes widened. "I see where you're going with this. I would guess at least a week or two."

Harry sat up a little straighter, pressing his back against the headboard. He figured he could last a couple of weeks. "Two summers ago, the Weasleys took me to see the Quidditch World Cup. They came to pick me up partway through the summer."

"And now you're wondering if you might go to the Dursleys for a little while, then live elsewhere after the minimum time had elapsed."

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't even have to go through the Ministry or through Muggle law enforcement. I would still be under the Dursleys' care—er, I mean, they would legally be my guardians. I just . . . wouldn't have to spend much time with them."

Remus nodded slowly. "I'm afraid the Weasleys might have their hands a bit full."

"Er . . ." Harry shifted his weight a little. He hadn't really been thinking of going to the Weasleys anyway—he'd just brought it up as an example—but he didn't want to invite himself to stay at Grimmauld Place if Remus didn't want him here, and now he was too embarrassed to bring it up at all.

But Remus already seemed to know what he was thinking. "Harry, I'm not sure if this is the best place for you."

Harry winced. "I—I can pay for my own room and board."

"We would never ask for that. That's not the problem. The problem is that there is no one here who can take responsibility for you."

"I can take care of myself." Harry had been doing that much for years.

"I'm sure you can, but you are still underage. Legally, someone needs to be responsible for you. When you stay with the Weasleys, you fall under Arthur and Molly's care and authority, isn't that right?"

"Uh . . . I guess." Harry hadn't really thought about it that way, but he supposed they _had_ provided for his basic needs while he was staying with them, and although they didn't really ask much of him, he was obligated to do anything they asked him to do—he helped a little with house chores, and he supposed he had to follow the same rules as Ron with regards to bedtime, mealtimes and keeping his space clean. "Can't Sirius be in charge of me?"

"Officially, Sirius isn't here."

"But he is."

"Harry, if anyone were to look into your affairs . . ."

"But they won't. My aunt and uncle don't care enough about me to mention anything to anyone."

Remus sighed. "There's more to it than that. Azkaban took a toll on Sirius. As much as he might like to, he's coming to terms with the fact that he's not ready to be a parent. There may come a day when his name is cleared and his health is improved, and he might be able to take responsibility for you and maybe even adopt you. As for right now, I'm afraid it simply isn't an option."

"Well then, can't . . ." _You?_ Harry couldn't quite get out that last word.

But yet again, Remus understood. "Harry, you mean quite a bit to me. More than you know. It is for that reason that I cannot be the one to care for you."

Harry knew that there was quite a bit of prejudice in the Wizarding community revolving around werewolves—he'd seen much of it firsthand—but he always felt that those prejudices were a bit dramatic, and Remus dramatized his situation as a result. "Sir . . . I mean, Remus . . . I know Sirius isn't ready to take care of me for a whole summer. But what about for three days?"

"Three days?" Remus frowned.

"Yeah. Three days, each a month apart. That's how many full moons we'll have this summer, right?"

Remus looked away, his brow furrowing as if in deep thought. Harry's stomach turned, and he wished he hadn't brought it up. He knew it was a lot to ask of someone, and he shouldn't have made that kind of assumption.

Harry swallowed. "Just . . . never mind. Forget it."

"I can't, and I won't." Remus took a deep breath. "It's my turn to ask for some time to think. Let me sleep on this, Harry."

"Yeah, sure. Of course." But Harry's stomach was still turning somersaults.

Remus smiled gently and stood from the bed. Harry slid down under the covers, and Remus patted his back over the blankets. "Now you—" he gave Harry a stern look— "get some _sleep_."

"Yes, sir." Harry didn't correct himself this time. _Sir_ felt right.

Remus gave one last nod and left the room. Harry closed his eyes, but he knew he would still be unable to sleep. Only now, Harry was sure Remus would be tossing and turning as well.


	4. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this for Comfortember, this falls under the "anxiety" prompt.

It was Remus's turn to lie awake for the majority of the night.

Harry's suggestion made sense, and Remus had to admit he probably wouldn't have thought of it. In many ways, it was the best of both worlds—it would protect Harry from the Dursleys' abuse for at least the majority of the summer, and it would enable him to keep the protection of the blood wards.

Remus still felt sick at the thought of sending Harry back to his relatives. At the same time, the thought of severing that connection forever, forcing Harry to lose his protection, made him sick with a different kind of worry.

Meanwhile, another concern weighed on his mind. Harry might have been right about his aunt and uncle caring very little what happened to him or whose care he was in, but there were quite a lot of people—Hogwarts professors in particular—who did _not_ feel the same way, many of whom would know exactly where Harry was staying and with whom. Those people would know that Remus was not suitable as the guardian of a child, for the same reasons he had not been suitable as a teacher of children. It wasn't just the dangers associated with his condition—it was the opinions and prejudices of others, which followed everyone who associated with him. Harry had enough riding on his shoulders without having to deal with that as well.

Aside from any of that, and despite what Sirius had said, Remus knew guardianship entailed a lot of things that teaching did not, things Remus wasn't ready for. He had always thrived when it came to engaging students, finding and celebrating their unique talents, and educating them on the topics he found most interesting. But parenthood required much more in the way of mentoring and counseling, as well as enforcing boundaries. He would have to go over house rules with Harry, and—Merlin forbid—hold the line if Harry misbehaved. The boy might come to resent or even hate him.

The sunlight streamed in from the window sooner than Remus might have liked. Harry would be awaiting Remus's decision of what to do. Somehow, even though Dumbledore had chosen where to put Harry, and even though Remus had tried to give Harry the choice of where to be, the weight of the responsibility had ended up back in Remus's hands.

Of course, _that_ had been Harry's choice, too. The boy was trusting him to make the right call.

Remus dressed quickly and went to see about breakfast before anyone else was awake.

* * *

Harry woke to the smell of bacon frying.

It took him a moment to remember where he was. It couldn't be Hogwarts, since the Great Hall and the castle kitchens were too far from the dorm for him to wake up to the smell of food. Nor could it be the Dursleys' house—Harry would have been expected to cook, if it were.

Grimmauld Place. That was right. Because Harry had been a coward at the last moment and had run here instead of having his aunt and uncle pick him up from the train station.

Harry got out of bed, stepped over his mostly-packed suitcases, and walked out into the kitchen. Remus stood at the stove. He turned and gave Harry a slight smile as he entered the room. "Good morning, my boy."

Harry sat down at the counter, where Remus placed a steaming plate in front of him. Harry scratched his head. "Ah . . . not that I don't appreciate it, sir, but what's all this?"

"Your first morning of the summer holiday, and perhaps your last at Grimmauld Place for a little while."

Harry's eyes widened. "So you're going with my idea?"

"I accept a trial. I will take you back to your aunt and uncle and allow you to stay with them for one week. I will be contacting you when the week is up, and if you are safe and all has gone well, you will stay with them for one more week. That should be enough time for the blood wards to reactivate"

"And then I can come back here?"

"Once again, we will try having you stay for a week, and then we'll discuss whether it is the best arrangement for you."

Harry swallowed hard—it sounded like he'd be having to earn his keep at Grimmauld Place. But he didn't have many options, especially since Remus had more or less accepted his suggestion. "Does Sirius know about this?"

"I haven't spoken to him about it. You'll have the chance to tell him before you go."

There was something about the way Remus said it that Harry appreciated—like this was Harry's decision, and that made it his right to talk to Sirius.

"But before you do, I expect you to eat, young man. You're still growing, and I won't have you skipping meals."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, and he picked up his fork.

It was quiet for a few minutes as they both ate. Harry felt like he was forcing down every bite. The thought of returning to the Dursleys made him feel like he'd eaten slugs, even though it _had_ been his suggestion. But he couldn't afford to waste any opportunity to eat, if he was going to be living with the Dursleys. They didn't have the best track record when it came to feeding him.

When Harry had finished eating, Remus took out his wand and held it out over Harry's head. He closed his eyes and began muttering incantations under his breath. Harry felt a sort of shiver pass over his skin.

"It's not a complete protection," Remus said, "but it will help."

"What was that?"

"Some protective spells. It should make it much more difficult for anyone to hurt you."

Harry blinked a couple of times. "Brilliant! Er . . . why doesn't everyone use those spells all the time?"

"Because they don't defend against magical harm. And . . . well, the enchantments are rather difficult."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Of course. Now, how would you like for your aunt and uncle to be contacted?"

Harry gave him a phone number—he figured it was best if Remus made the call—and left the kitchen to go and enjoy the coziness of the living room one more time before he had to leave it for three weeks. He found Sirius already there, sitting on a couch.

"Ah! Still here, are you?" Sirius gave him a wink.

"Er . . . for a little while longer. Remus is calling my aunt."

Sirius's face darkened suddenly. "No. Tell me he isn't."

"We talked about it, and we decided that I would stay at the Dursleys' for two weeks, then come back here for the rest of the summer. That way, the blood wards still work."

Sirius looked away for a moment, then back at Harry. There was fire in his eyes. "Remus suggested this?"

"No. I did."

"Harry . . ." Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, gripping just too tightly for comfort. "I will _not_ allow you to go back there. If they were abusing you—"

"My protective spells should put a stop to that," Remus said. Harry hadn't even heard him step into the living room. "This was Harry's decision, Sirius. We're going to be checking in with him in a week to make sure everything is okay."

"No. Harry, you owl me _daily,_ do you hear me? I'll show them, I'll put an end to anything—"

"Of course, Harry knows how to contact us, and we'll pick him up within the hour if it's needed."

Harry swallowed hard. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea—if his uncle did try something, it might put Sirius at risk, because Sirius would try to go on some revenge mission. Harry was happy to risk losing the blood wards if it would help keep Sirius safe.

"Harry," Remus said gently, "this is about you. Not about either of us."

Harry took a deep breath. Something about the way Remus said it reassured him. Harry had to trust that Remus would keep Sirius from doing anything dangerous—he'd succeeded in protecting him when it came to Umbridge. "I'm ready to go," Harry said finally, standing.

Remus gave him a slight smile. "We'll miss you, Harry."

Sirius stood to give Harry a last hug, and Harry followed Remus out of the house.


	5. Trial

Harry's stomach was in knots as they approached the Dursleys' house. Memories flooded through his mind even just looking at the exterior of the house—the little flower garden that Harry had been forced to weed in the blazing sun. The window his uncle had barred during the summer of his second year. The mail slot that had flooded with acceptance letters from Hogwarts, that his uncle had boarded up in a vain effort to keep Harry away from any chance of happiness.

It would only be for two weeks. He could handle two weeks.

Harry was hoping Remus would drop him off at the Dursleys' house and then be on his way. Apparently, nothing of the sort was on his mind. He walked Harry up to the front doorstep and actually knocked for him.

There was a pause, and then muffled grumbling could be heard from the other side

"—at this ungodly hour of the morning—" The door swung open, and there stood Uncle Vernon in his pajamas.

"Good morning, Mr. Dursley," Remus said, though without a trace of a smile on his face. "I've come to bring Harry to you."

"Oh." Uncle Vernon's eyes were wrinkled from recent sleep. "Well, get in, then."

Harry picked up his suitcase and took a step toward the door.

"Ruddy bad manners, if you ask me. My wife wasted a trip out to the train station yesterday. Thought we were rid of you, didn't we? Then this morning, here you are. Ungrateful as ever."

" _Pardon?_ " Remus said.

Harry kept trying to shake his head at Remus, but Remus wasn't responding. "It's fine," Harry muttered. "Really, it's okay." He should have thought about the fact that the school would have contacted his aunt and uncle about when to be at the train station. Harry was used to this kind of rudeness from his uncle, but he also knew how it probably sounded to someone who wasn't. Still, he didn't want Remus to try to get involved. No good could possibly come of that altercation; it would just make things worse for Harry in the long run. He needed to make it through these two weeks.

Remus's eyebrows were knitted together, but he didn't say any more to Vernon. Instead, he turned to Harry. "Forget the owl. Floo me if you need me."

Harry nodded. "I will." He had no intention of doing so, though. Having the blood wards for protection was worth a couple of weeks with the Dursleys, and he'd never been here with an actual protective spell over him. It wouldn't be bad enough for him to feel the need to run.

"Take care," Remus said, and he took a couple of steps back, though he seemed determined to wait until he could ensure Harry made it into the house safely before leaving him.

Harry stepped into the house with his luggage, and he carried them up to his bedroom, where he hoped to spend as much of his time as possible. The Dursleys had been a lot more bearable to live with after Harry told them about Sirius, but it was still better to stay out of their way. If he could spend the majority of the daytime in his room, and sneak out to eat at night, the two weeks would be over in no time. He might even get his summer homework finished before he had to head back to Grimmauld Place, so he could focus on spending time with Sirius while he was there.

His plan failed, though, when he ran into Dudley in the hall.

Dudley's eyes scrunched up in confusion. "When did you get here?"

"This morning," Harry said.

"Mum's not going to be happy."

Harry shrugged and turned to go toward his room.

"So where were you?"

"At my godfather's house."

The effect was immediate and visible. Dudley shrank back. "Sirius Black?"

"Yeah. The murderer."

Dudley swallowed. "Mum says she's gonna call the police about him."

Harry's throat felt dry. The Muggle police wouldn't be able to do much, but word might reach the Wizarding authorities as well. Harry hadn't stopped to think that he might be endangering Sirius by using him as a way to get the Dursleys to leave him alone. "She wouldn't do that." Harry tried and failed to make his voice sound easy and sure. "He's dangerous. If he finds out who made the call . . ."

A hint of a smile played with Dudley's lips—apparently he knew he was getting through—and he straightened up. "She was scared to, but she thinks it might be safer to call it in and have him locked up than to risk him being free." He smirked. "She says she won't have to make the call if you behave."

Harry still had his wand in his pocket. He whipped it out and aimed it at Dudley. "You tell your mum that if she does make that call—"

" _Dad!_ " Dudley whimpered.

"—she'll have to deal with—"

"He's got the—the—"

Uncle Vernon reached the top of the stairs at that moment. Next thing Harry knew, he was being tackled to the ground, his wand skittering across the floor. Not that he could have used it without being expelled, anyway—the Ministry wouldn't care if he had used magic in self defense.

The protective spell Remus had placed over Harry, however, did seem to care that his relatives were technically defending themselves; Harry only wished it had been more interested in who had been the first to provoke the fight, because then it might have protected him more. Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry's wand before Harry could, and managed to land a few whacks over his head and arms as Harry scrambled to his feet and into his room. He'd left his luggage behind in the hall, as well as his wand, but he would have to worry about that later.

Harry stood with his back against the door, his uncle's shouting washing over him as he caught his breath. The back of his head stung in three places and his left shoulder in two, and his right side hurt from hitting the floor. Harry rubbed the sore spots with a slight wince.

He was thankful for the big breakfast Remus had made; leaving his bedroom certainly wasn't in the cards for today, not until he was sure the Dursleys were asleep. He might be able to risk slipping out to use the bathroom for a minute at a time, but going all the way down to the kitchen was certainly not an option. Thinking about that made him feel hungry even though he was still full.

Apparently, he needed to work on his temper, though. If Aunt Petunia was going to use Harry's behavior to inform her decision about whether to make that call about Sirius, Harry couldn't be lashing out at Dudley.

This was going to be more complicated than he'd thought.


	6. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've found this story to be a bit more challenging to write than some of my other WIPs, hence the slower updates, but I should be able to keep up with an every-other-week posting schedule from here on out. Thank you for your patience. Here's hoping the rest of the story is worth the wait!

Harry woke up the next morning with a plan fully formed in his head.

Back when he was the one to do all of the cooking, he'd usually managed to get enough to eat. He could do the same thing now. He couldn't use magic to ensure nothing came out burned, but he was a lot older than he'd been when Aunt Petunia had first thrown him into using the stove every day. Eggs and bacon weren't that difficult.

He was up long before the Dursleys were. Just as a precaution, he made his own breakfast first and scarfed it down before starting on theirs. It was the first thing he'd eaten since breakfast with Remus the day before, and it tasted amazing. He vowed not to change a thing when he made the food for the Dursleys—they would never admit it, but they'd be thrilled with him, maybe enough to leave him alone until lunchtime.

Unfortunately, he made the mistake of severely underestimating how much faster the eggs would cook once the pan had had time to heat up, and he hadn't realized the coffee maker was new and worked a little differently from the old one. By the time Uncle Vernon came down to the kitchen, Aunt Petunia and Dudley following close behind, the entire house smelled like bad coffee and burned eggs.

Harry swallowed hard—he had to work with what he had. He cut away the worst of the burned parts and set down the plate of food on the kitchen table. There wasn't much he could do about the coffee, but he poured it anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad. Maybe Uncle Vernon would be too half-asleep and out of it to notice how bad it was.

Uncle Vernon took one swig of the coffee and spat. He turned to Harry, fire in his eyes. "What do you call this, boy?" he barked.

Harry swallowed hard. "Sorry, I—"

Uncle Vernon lifted a hand to cuff Harry on the back of the head. Harry flinched, but he felt nothing—nothing except for a slight tingling sensation, like static electricity.

There was no impact at all.

Uncle Vernon yanked his hand back, hissing and rubbing his palm, as though he were the one who had been struck. "What—what . . . ?"

"Potter, what did you do?" Aunt Petunia went to stand over by her husband.

Harry glanced from Uncle Vernon's hand, to his face. All three of the Dursleys were staring at Harry as though he had sprouted two extra heads. Like he was a freak. It was, to some degree, the way they always looked at him, but he hadn't seen such shock in their eyes in awhile—perhaps since Mr. Weasley had shown up to take Harry to the Quidditch World Cup.

"Y-you're not supposed to use magic. You'll be expelled from that school of yours."

Harry straightened up, gaining confidence by the second. "I'm not _using_ magic. I _am_ magic. It's in me, in my skin."

"Y-you've never—"

"No. Every day I become more powerful."

"You'll not be going back to that school," Uncle Vernon hissed.

Harry's heart pounded at that, but he thought fast. "It has nothing to do with my schooling. It's just who I am. You. Can't. Hurt. Me."

The Dursleys scrambled out of the kitchen, leaving Harry behind with the bad coffee and the half-burned eggs.

Harry sat down at the table and picked at the eggs, taking deep breaths. So the spell worked. It hadn't helped him at all the night before, when Uncle Vernon had been beating him with his own wand, but he'd guessed that had been because of the fact that Harry had attacked Dudley first. Of course, the night before, a part of him had just wondered if the protective spell hadn't been very effective; Remus had said it was difficult to make effective. The incident at breakfast answered the question of whether the protective spells worked. It also gave him a clue about _how_ the spells worked.

They couldn't hurt him, as long as he didn't hurt them first.

* * *

The spell wasn't very perceptive. It seemed to prefer to treat situations in black and white rather than considering anything beyond what was immediate.

For instance, it didn't care about emotional distress or verbal provocation, and it didn't care who had "started" a fight. All it considered was whether Harry had lashed out physically in any way. If Harry kept his hands to himself, the Dursleys couldn't touch him. If he didn't, all bets were off.

He learned this the hard way at lunchtime, when Dudley went to block the fridge. Harry rolled his eyes and went instead to the pantry, but Dudley continued to move to block him, grinning all the while. Harry thought for certain the spell would protect him from food deprivation, so he tried to push his way past Dudley. Not only was this completely useless—he might as well have been trying to push the house itself—but the spell dropped its defenses. Dudley shoved Harry hard onto the floor, then he kicked him in the side. Harry lay curled up, panting and wincing, for a long moment after Dudley left him there, but at least he was able to get into the fridge once he got up.

So the spell didn't defend him from deprivation, and it didn't care _why_ he'd shoved Dudley—only that he had.

Harry quickly learned to work within the confines of the spell. Unfortunately, the Dursleys seemed to be picking up on how it worked, too. Harry understood, more and more, the answer to the question he'd asked Remus, about why people didn't go around with this type of protection around them all of the time. It was certainly an advantage, but it wasn't anything like the invulnerability he'd hoped for.

For the most part, the Dursleys got around it by switching to verbal abuse, or by trying to provoke him to act out against them. Dudley seemed to be particularly creative about this, especially around mealtimes. Harry learned to eat at any time other than mealtimes, but Dudley had a tendency to wait around for him if he didn't see him around the times Dudley usually ate. Eventually, Harry started eating at odd times, but he'd still check the kitchen at least once a day at a regular meal and let Dudley shove him around a little. Better to take a couple of hits than to go hungry all day.

Uncle Vernon didn't really have the creativity required to work around the protective spell. Aunt Petunia was a little more imaginative. She'd spit insults under her breath or even sit outside his room and tell him stories through his door, terrible things about Harry's parents and grandparents, for the sole purpose of riling him up. He wouldn't lash out at her physically, but it left him fearful of what she would say next. He was sure the spell wouldn't defend him against any of them if he drew his wand in their presence, and at times, he felt like he was going to explode with anger—the same intensity of anger that had led to Aunt Marge getting blown up.

At first, he wasn't sure why she was doing it at all; she wasn't usually cruel for the mere sake of hurting Harry. But over time, he began to realize that she was manipulating him through this. She would occasionally give him an off-handed order to complete some chore—the kind of orders he'd been ignoring ever since he'd told them about Sirius. But once, on a whim, he did the dishes when she asked. When he was finished, she left him alone for a couple of hours, even making sure her other family members stayed away from him as well. It didn't last long, but it was long enough to make it worth it for him. After that, he got into the habit of doing whatever she asked.

So a week into his stay with the Dursleys, when she asked him to pull weeds in the garden, he did it, even though the sun beat down hard on his ears and the back of his neck. It was a hard chore, and he figured she knew it—she'd give him an extra long period of respite after he finished.

He never would have guessed that it was a trap.

When he came back inside and went up to his room to change out of his sweaty work clothes, he found that his few things had been removed, along with the bed. A bunch of Dudley's things filled the room instead. Dudley himself sat in front of a new video game system.

"Go _away,_ freak." There was less confidence in his voice than Harry suspected he realized.

"This is my room, Dudley."

"Not any more. Mum said I could have it back."

Harry's voice caught. "So where am I supposed to sleep? In your room?"

Dudley shook his head emphatically. "In your _old_ room."

Harry took a step back. He hoped that didn't mean what he thought it did. The Dursleys wouldn't do that to him—even they wouldn't be that cruel. Harry was almost a foot taller than he'd been the last time he slept there. He wouldn't even fit.

With a sinking feeling of dread, he descended the staircase and opened the cupboard under the stairs.

There, jammed inside, were his few belongings, as well as an old mattress with his covers and pillow.

Harry was supposed to be checking in with Remus today via Floo. If he told him about this, Remus would come pick him up. Harry wouldn't have to live through another week of this. It was tempting enough that, for a moment, Harry felt convinced that that was what he was going to do. But he kept thinking about the blood wards, and how he would need every advantage he could get against Voldemort . . .

Harry wasn't a coward; he could do this. He'd lived for years in this cupboard. He could handle another week. He'd just have to tell Remus that everything was alright.

And it wasn't exactly a lie, either. Strictly speaking, things weren't _worse_ than they'd been before Harry got his Hogwarts letter. Not yet, anyway . . .


	7. Floo

Remus had to resist the urge to owl or Floo call Harry every single day of that first week Harry spent at the Durlseys. He kept telling himself that Harry would be fine. It was a bad situation, yes, and certainly bad enough to be considered abusive, but not detrimentally so—worth it for the protection of the blood wards. Harry had survived ten years plus four summer holidays with them already, and while he wasn't the image of mental health, he didn't show any serious damage from his time with them; he was basically fine. These two weeks would be unpleasant, but they wouldn't damage him or even severely hurt him.

Aside from that, Harry had made this decision. If Remus was going to maintain a relationship of open honesty with Harry, it was important that Remus showed he trusted him, and that he would honor the decisions he made. Of course, there could be exceptions to that, but in this case, Remus had _told_ him it was his decision.

Sirius, of course, was pretty unhappy with Harry's choice and Remus's desire to uphold it, and he didn't make it easy for Remus to keep his mind at ease. "What if they beat him?"

"They haven't been beating him," Remus said. "And the protective spell will make sure they don't start." Of course, that was only true if Harry didn't strike first. But whether the Dursleys lashed out in defense or otherwise, the spell also set absolute limits on the pain it would allow Harry to receive—it wouldn't allow the boy's skin to be broken, and it wouldn't allow any attempts on his life. It would also alert Remus if Harry seemed to be in any real danger.

Sirius frowned. "I'm thankful for the protective spell. But you know as well as I that they can do much more harm with words."

Remus didn't respond. There was nothing he could say.

He distracted himself by spending time at a Wizard library, researching adoption guidelines. He told himself he was just looking, that he wasn't really going to do anything about it, but he was unprepared for how disappointed he felt when he realized that researching was all he'd ever be able to do. Regulations around werewolves adopting kids made it almost impossible, and perhaps the most frustrating part of that was that he felt the restrictions were justified. Formal adoption was out.

But since Remus was already at the library, he started reading about raising children and mentoring teenagers as well. He read about how to provide a stable presence and a supportive sounding board to help kids to solve their own problems, how to enforce firm boundaries while also ensuring a child felt loved, and how to help a teenager navigate finding their place in the world. There was also lots of advice in the book specific to raising wizarding children. Everything from accidental magic (which Remus was fairly certain Harry had grown out of, but one never knew), to helping kids with certain spells and magical feats (such as flying on a broomstick or Apparating), to dealing with the suspicion that a young child might actually be a Squib (though Remus had no concerns there).

Almost none of the advice required for him to actually be Harry's legal guardian. More, it required that Harry respect him as though he were his parent—which, Sirius claimed, Harry already did. If Remus put some effort into it, and if Harry was willing, he could do some real good for the boy. The harm people like Dursleys could do with cruel words and a hostile environment was clear to Remus, even if it wasn't always obvious to Harry. He would just have to make sure his words and the place he set up for Harry had the opposite effect.

Remus was so caught up in his reading that he was almost late in coming home for his Floo call with Harry. It didn't matter; Harry was almost twenty minutes late himself.

"Sorry," Harry said, kneeling beside the fireplace on a pillow. "I had to wait for them to leave the house."

"They didn't want you to use the fireplace?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't want to ask."

That didn't sound good to Remus, but it wasn't exactly ominous or even particularly surprising, either. "How are you, Harry?"

"I'm fine, Remus. Really. I can make it one more week."

"The protective spell is working?"

"Er, yeah. I guess."

That didn't sound good to him. "You guess?"

"I mean, yeah. It's working." Harry's cheeks turned a bit pink.

So Harry had lashed out at one of his relatives. Remus was torn about who to be upset with; he decided to let it go for now. "Are you getting enough to eat?"

"It's not a problem."

" _Harry_."

"I am, Remus. I promise."

"I can owl you some extra food if you want. I can have Hedwig take it straight to your bedroom window, you can hide it in your room—"

"No. Please don't do that."

That _really_ didn't sound right. "Why not?"

"I mean . . . there's really no need. And, er, you don't need to go to the trouble."

Was _that_ what he was worried about? "I assure you, it's no trouble."

"But, ah, Dudley goes into my room sometimes."

"Ahh . . ." Remus wasn't sure what to make of that. Clearly, Harry was hiding things, but Remus didn't know how to press him to be honest in a way that wouldn't push him away and make him even less inclined to open up. Something else to read about in the parenting books, he supposed.

"Remus, I'm okay. Tell Sirius I said hi?"

Remus nodded. He had wanted to keep the conversation going for longer, if only to give Harry some company and encouragement, but his mind went blank—he didn't know what else to say. "I will."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. See you in a week."

"I look forward to it."

"Me too."

Remus took his head out of the fireplace, sighing. Clearly, things weren't okay, but there was nothing he could do about it. He would have to trust that Harry would be alright for another week.

* * *

Remus's face hadn't quite disappeared from the flames when the Dursleys came back from Dudley's birthday lunch. Immediately, Uncle Vernon set to shouting at him for using magic in the house, and Aunt Petunia yelled at him for sitting on her nice decorative pillow on the floor, and Dudley pouted and whined about how their scolding was ruining his birthday. Harry took his opportunity while they were consoling Dudley—he slipped away into his cupboard.

Part of him regretted lying to Remus, but nothing good could have come of him telling the truth. Not this time. Remus would either insist on him coming back to Grimmauld Place, or he'd spend the next week losing sleep, worrying about Harry. Best case scenario, Remus might be able to offer a few encouraging words. Worst case, Sirius would catch wind of what was happening and do something terribly stupid and reckless.

It was tricky business, having people who cared about him. Still, the idea that someone might lie awake at night worrying about him, or be willing to endanger themselves for him . . . that made some part of him feel really good, better than he had since he'd come here. Harry lay back on the mattress, closed his eyes, and smiled to himself even as the Dursleys continued to shout at each other outside the cupboard.


	8. Rescue

The day before Remus was set to pick up Harry from the Dursleys, a few members of the Order came to stay at headquarters for a few days after a successful mission to stop a Death Eater raid on a muggle town. Tonks, Moody, and Shacklebolt had been spotted, and they needed to lay low and out of sight for a few days to until they could be sure it was safe for them to be seen again.

Remus was glad to have other people around, and he was sure Sirius was even more thankful for the company than he was. Of course, Remus himself spent most of his time around Tonks. She tried to help him in the kitchen, but he had long since learned not to hand her anything breakable, unless he wanted to spend more time performing cleaning and repair spells than actually cooking.

"So I heard about what happened with Umbridge," she said, leaning up against the counter while Remus poked at the bacon on the stove. "Gotta say, I'm pretty impressed."

"It was Harry's doing, not mine."

"Oh, I'm sure you had nothing to do with it."

Her cheeky grin made Remus's heart melt a little, but he forced himself to focus on his cooking.

She took a step closer, placing a hand on the back of his arm. "Harry really respects you, you know."

"So I hear."

"Any chance I might see him while I'm here?"

Remus nodded. "He's at his aunt and uncle's now, but I'm going to pick him up tomorrow and bring him back here."

She raised her eyebrows. "Why? Everything okay?"

"It seems they don't treat him well."

"Oh." She dropped her hand from his arm. "And you _let_ him go back?"

"The situation is complicated." He didn't feel it was necessarily within his rights to explain the blood wards to her, and it was uncomfortable to go into detail about the exact nature of the abuse—that was Harry's story to share, not his. "We'll be able to protect him much better after he spends a couple of weeks with his family."

Tonks hissed. "Wish we could do more to help. Have you checked in with him since he's been there?"

"We had a Floo call the other day."

"And?"

"He says he's fine . . ."

She raised an eyebrow. "But you don't believe that."

Remus took a deep breath. "I don't believe he would lie outright. I offered to send food, and he didn't accept it."

"Maybe he was worried about getting caught."

"I offered to send it directly to his room."

"Has he been checking in by Owl?"

Remus shook his head. "Sirius wanted him to, but you know how teenagers can be."

Tonks winced. "You think he's hiding something."

Remus couldn't keep the worry from showing in his face, but he forced his voice to remain calm. "He's only staying there for a little while; he'll be okay. I put a protective spell on him. If anything really bad happens, we'll be hearing alarm bells throughout headquarters."

"If you're sure," Tonks said.

Just then, the alarms began to sound.

* * *

Harry stood in the wreckage of what used to be the cupboard under the stairs. He wasn't sure exactly what had hit him.

One moment, he'd been sitting in his cupboard, trying to read a spell book while Aunt Petunia sat outside of the door, quietly, almost absentmindedly, telling him stories about his parents. She'd gone through a few stories about bouts of accidental magic his mother had had, and how her parents had been afraid of her a couple of times before they figured out what was going on. She talked about her interactions with Snape, and with Harry's dad, and how they were all freaks.

But then she crossed a line. She talked about the wedding. About the family members who had refused to come because they saw them as freaks.

Harry wanted to be anywhere but where he was, but he couldn't quite drown out the stories his aunt was telling him. One moment, Harry felt so angry, his heart hammering so hard against his chest, that he thought he might explode.

And then, he sort of had.

There had been a loud _BANG,_ and the next thing he knew, Harry was standing in ruins, the door to the cupboard torn off its hinges. Broken pieces of drywall covered the old mattress he'd been sleeping on, and his few belongings were covered in debris. He'd been lucky his outburst apparently hadn't destroyed anything that was structurally holding up the staircase, because Uncle Vernon had thundered down the stairs at just that moment, raining down sawdust and splintered bits of wood on Harry's head.

Aunt Petunia was staring in horror at the wreckage, while Uncle Vernon took a much more direct, hands-on approach—he reached in and grabbed Harry out of it by the arm. The protective spell seemed to interpret this as saving him from the site of the explosion, and it didn't prevent Uncle Vernon from gripping tighter and tighter, shouting red-faced threats into Harry's face as Harry stammered, trying to defend himself. He knew the spell wouldn't let Uncle Vernon hit him, but the grip on his arm was really starting to hurt, and Uncle Vernon was shaking him, and when he slammed Harry back against the wall, the spell didn't prevent it.

Uncle Vernon continued shouting, but there was a hint of a smile in his eyes. He'd found a workaround, and he knew it. Harry clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut—this could get ugly fast, but it was always best to take it quietly if he could. Uncle Vernon slammed Harry against the wall once more.

That was when Remus appeared.

Harry had never seen him so angry before. Certainly, Remus had earned his respect, but until that moment, Harry had never _feared_ him, not really. And yet as terrifying as the sight was, Harry couldn't help but think that he had never felt safer in his entire life.

The Dursleys didn't seem to notice his arrival. Remus's eyes bore holes into the back of Uncle Vernon's head right up until the moment he drew his wand, and Uncle Vernon was thrown back away from Harry, slamming into the opposite wall.

"How dare you." Remus's voice was dangerously quiet as he came to stand over Uncle Vernon's cowering frame. Aunt Petunia began to cry and wail, while Dudley rushed into the room and into his mother's arms, whimpering.

"How _dare_ you touch him." Remus raised his wand.

Harry darted forward and grabbed his arm. "Remus, it's okay."

Remus's dagger eyes turned on Harry. "What did they do to you?" Remus demanded.

"It doesn't matter." Harry forced himself to hold his gaze. "Let's get out of here. They're not worth it."

Remus turned back toward Uncle Vernon, who cringed and held both hands up. He lowered his wand and took a step closer.

"I spared you," Remus said. "Never forget that."

Harry held his breath.

Remus turned to Harry. "Let's go," he said.

Harry straightened up, rubbing the back of his head. "M-my things?"

Remus glanced back at the ruins that had been the cupboard under the stairs. "I'll come back for your wand and for anything else that can be salvaged. We'll buy you anything else that needs to be replaced."

Harry swallowed hard. He didn't want to say it, but he had to. "It—it hasn't been two weeks."

"And you could have been killed in that explosion. Thirteen days will have to do." Remus held out his arm. "Let's go, son."

With a trembling hand, Harry took his arm, and they Disapparated.


	9. Healing

Harry didn't think he'd ever quite get used to the feeling of Apparating, but today, the disorientation and slight nausea might as well have been the best feeling in the world.

He was out. He was safe.

Remus and Harry appeared in the living room at Grimmauld Place. Harry wondered if there were extra people staying there—it was a little messier than usual, with dishes washing themselves in the sink and coats slung over chairs and furniture.

And Sirius lay on the floor of the living room in a full body bind.

"Ah. Sorry about that." Remus took out his wand and muttered a counter curse.

Sirius jumped to his feet and threw his arms around Harry. "Are you alright?"

Harry gasped a little for breath. "I'm fine."

"You're sure?" He gripped Harry's shoulders and held him at arm's length. "What did they do to you?"

"Nothing."

"Harry," Remus said in a warning voice.

Harry grimaced. He didn't want to talk to Sirius about this. For one thing, it was embarrassing. He had been so certain he could last two weeks at his relatives' house, especially with the protective spell over him, and he couldn't even do that. Aunt Petunia hadn't even been hurting him; whatever alarms had been triggered at Grimmauld Place had probably been a result of his own accidental magic more than anything else. On the other hand, Uncle Vernon had knocked his head against a wall, and Sirius wouldn't deal well with that knowledge. Even Remus had barely kept it in.

But Remus had just charged in and rescued him. Harry couldn't just shrug and refuse to speak; he had to say s _omething_. For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out what to say.

Remus spoke first. "Sirius, Harry has been through an ordeal. Why don't we let him rest, and we can talk to him in a little while?"

Harry could see Sirius fighting his urge to resist, his mouth opening and closing, breathing in to speak and then holding himself back. Finally, he sighed. "Get some rest, Harry," Sirius said. "We'll talk later."

* * *

Remus spent the next hour out in the common area on the couch in front of the empty fireplace. He held a shot glass of firewhiskey in his hand, but he never actually brought it to his lips.

Within the first fifteen minutes after his arrival, Kingsley dropped in to ask whether Harry was alright, and five minutes after that, Tonks came in with the same question. He told them both the same thing: that they should leave Harry alone until he was ready to talk. He was thankful they had asked him first.

Something terrible must have happened at the Dursleys. It was the only thing that would explain the strength of the accidental magic outburst he'd seen, especially given the fact that Harry should really be too old for that by now; the boy was almost sixteen. His uncle had been hurting him when Remus had arrived, but that didn't seem to be what had caused the explosion; more likely, his uncle was punishing him for an outburst he couldn't control. Remus paced and counted his breaths—Vernon Dursley made him want to forget all reason and take justice into his own hands. He couldn't blame Sirius for wanting the same, and he couldn't imagine what Harry must have gone through, or what he might be thinking or feeling now.

It took almost the full hour for it to occur to Remus that he had projected his own needs onto the boy. He hadn't actually _asked_ Harry whether he wanted to be alone, or if he talk about anything. He's just assumed.

Remus had forced himself to take some time away from Harry to collect his thoughts and allow Harry to collect his own, and to protect the boy from prying questions. But just because Sirius had been overwhelming him didn't mean Harry wanted to be alone after such a traumatic event. Remus hadn't even _asked_. He could have kicked himself.

For all Sirius's promptings and Tonks's confidence, Remus really had no idea how to be a guardian.

Remus knocked on the door and waited for Harry to invite him in before stepping into the guest room where Harry had been staying. It hadn't mattered before, but it only now struck Remus how depressing and bare the room was. A bed, a small desk, a plain dresser, off-white walls. He wondered whether Harry had ever been allowed to have a room that was his own space, decorated according to his own tastes.

The room could wait. As soon as Remus's eyes fell on Harry, who sat on the edge of his bed, he knew he'd made a serious mistake. Harry was covered from head to toe in debris from the explosion. His face, hands, and arms were marred with cuts and scrapes that Remus hadn't even noticed before. He looked the way James used to look when he was on edge—holding his head high, but with his jaw tense, flinching ever so slightly at sudden movements. Other than maybe to shower, Harry didn't need to be alone.

"Hang on, Harry, I'll be right back." Remus walked over to the nearest medicine cabinet and picked up some supplies. He wasn't a healer, but he could relieve some of the boy's pain. He pulled the chair from the desk over to sit across from Harry, poured a bit of essence of Dittany onto a cotton pad, and leaned over to dab it into the cuts on Harry's face. Harry hissed as the liquid sank into a couple of the deeper cuts, but he held still as Remus worked.

When Remus finished with Harry's face and moved onto his hands, he asked what he should have asked an hour ago: "How are you, Harry?"

"I'm fine."

Remus tried to hide his disappointment. "I had believed you were past lying to me."

Harry sighed. "It was accidental magic. My uncle got pretty upset."

"Something must have made you quite angry to trigger that size of explosion."

Harry looked away.

Remus set down his supplies on the desk and leaned forward, looking Harry right in the eyes even as the boy avoided his gaze. "When I Floo-called, you told me everything was fine at the Dursleys. I offered to send food to your bedroom, and you asked me not to."

"Please don't tell Sirius. He'll do something reckless."

Sirius wouldn't like that, but his safety and Harry's comfort were more important than what he liked and disliked. "You have my word."

A short pause, and then, almost whispered, "They put me back in the cupboard."

An icy chill ran through Remus's veins. A dark thought crossed his mind—he wished he hadn't spared Vernon, and for a moment he relished the memory of the man cowering before him—but Remus pushed that aside. Harry needed him here, not in prison. For a moment Remus couldn't speak, but even when he could, he chose to remain silent, to give Harry space to open up if he wished.

"My aunt was saying terrible things about my parents. It was almost like she was trying to provoke me."

Remus nodded, hoping the sympathy he felt showed in his face, still forcing himself to remain quiet.

"I—I just don't understand. Why they hate me, you know? I know my uncle is afraid of magic, and I get the feeling my aunt was . . . jealous of my mom?"

"I think there's probably a lot of truth to that."

Harry's eyes finally met Remus's. "Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful to be here, but I just can't help but wish . . . I think part of why I wanted to go back was, I wanted to see if I could work things out, you know? And I couldn't even last two weeks."

"Harry." Remus firmed his voice. "It is _nothing_ to be ashamed of."

Harry shrugged and looked away. His eyes shone, but he blinked a few times.

"Son, if you need to . . ." Remus couldn't quite get out the word _cry_. "Your secret is safe with me."

"No, I'm—I'm okay."

Remus wished he knew what to say or do for the boy, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake as last time and assume he knew. "What do you need from me, Harry?"

He shifted his weight slightly on the bed. "I, er, I don't know if it's too much to ask . . ."

"Name it."

"I'm starving, but I don't want to see anyone else. Not just yet."

"You're quite welcome to eat in your room. I'll bring you something. I've saved some leftovers from dinner last night, I can cast a heating spell."

"Thank you, sir."

"When you are ready to come out . . . ah, fair warning, there might be a bit of a crowd."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "The Order?"

"Just a few members, hiding out after a mission until things settle down. Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Alastor Moody."

"Thanks for the warning."

"I won't keep you waiting any longer." Remus stood.

He was halfway to the door when Harry spoke again: "Er . . . Remus?"

Remus turned back toward Harry. "Yes, my boy?"

"I've got a headache, from . . . well, you know. I don't know if you have, er, a potion or something . . ."

Remus gave him a slight smile. "I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Remus."

"Of course." With that, Remus left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always enjoy hearing your thoughts! Also, "Speak Now" finished off at around this length, but it looks like this story will be much longer. The outline is not set in cement, so if there are any scenes you'd like to see, feel free to let me know. I can't make any promises, but I will definitely consider requests :)


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